Page 8 of Welcome to the Friendzone

Oliver’s voice came from behind her. She quickly spun around, a little too fast for her brain, and immediately saw stars. Thankfully Oliver had seen her eyes roll back, sprinted towards her, and caught her before her legs could give up.

“Gotcha,” he mumbled and steadied her on her hips.

“Sorry. It’s still hard for me to remember how broken I actually am,” she sighed.

The coffee machine had finished its job and, with a shaking hand, Marta grabbed the mug and placed it on the kitchen counter next to it.

“You want one, too?” She asked Oliver, who had stepped back but still watched her with a concerned frown on his face.

“No, thank you. I’m more of a tea kind of person.”

“No coffee? That’s a big meh.”

“Meh?” Oliver asked, confused.

“Yeah, meh. My roomie in the rehab hospital was in her early twenties and she taught me some phrases and words that you say nowadays. One of them ismehand it should express that you don’t really like something.”

“Meh,” Oliver repeated a few times, trying to evaluate if he’d like it enough to include it in his thesaurus or not.

Marta laughed a little while watching the man in front of her mumble the new word over and over again. He looked pretty cute. Cute? Wait a minute. She hadn’t used that word for a man in months. The last one she called cute was Frank. Speaking of Frank…

“I thought we could maybe make a stop at my old house, and I could get some of my stuff from there. They didn’t let me go when I was discharged from rehab,” she suggested, her voice low and filled with insecurity, something Oliver didn’t understand. As if Marta’s whole life was a loud sigh.

“Are you allowed to go there?” Oliver carefully asked.

“I… I don’t know,” Marta answered honestly.

Oliver was right. What if some of the mafioso were waiting for her, trying to get revenge for their murdered and arrested colleagues.

“You’d better ask Director Burns for his opinion. If he agrees we can go there as a last stop before returning home.”

Home.

Oliver had called the headquarters home but for her, home was where she wanted to stop and grab her stuff. The house with the wonderful white door and the bathtub shower. Filled with her and Frank's laughter and waiting for a tiny little human to turn their lives upside down. They’d just started to prepare the nursery. Way too early, but they were so excited. But that house - her home - would never be filled with laughter again. Would never be filled with the screams of a baby. That house was silent now. And would be forever.

“Marta?” he asked concerned, seeing that the brunette woman had drifted off again.

She did that a lot in their conversations. This also wasn’t new to him, having dealt with Nate and his demons for years now. He wondered what had happened to her that she was so easily distracted.

“Yeah? Sorry. Sounds good.”

Marta shook her head a little, forcing herself to stay in the reality she was currently in. CIA headquarters, her new home.

“Let me know when you’re ready. I have a great place to go for breakfast. Director Burns should already be in his office. He’s an early bird,” he said before kicking the coffee machine back to life.

“Sure.”

Marta was about to leave the kitchen to see Director Burns and ask if she was allowed to go home when she turned around once more.

“Thought you weren’t a coffee kind of guy?”

“It’s for Butch, I mean Nate. Nate Sheppard, a colleague and friend. People call him Butch. He lives here too. We’re in the terrorism task force together. Tall, grumpy-looking guy. You’ll meet him soon.”

“And he can’t get his coffee on his own?”

“Nah. The Oliver McGreen breakfast service is an experience everybody needs to have once in a lifetime and Butch Sheppard will get it today.”

Oliver winked at Marta, and she felt herself laugh. Honestly laugh. For the first time in a long time.

---